


she has dirt all over her pink dress

by celle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Character Death Fix, Dark Lydia, Dark Magic, Gen, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode: s03e23 Insatiable, Resurrection, Spells & Enchantments, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celle/pseuds/celle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> She understands now and knows what it means to be a banshee, what it means to wield death.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	she has dirt all over her pink dress

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fix-it written in anger. Inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://orwecouldnot.tumblr.com/post/79944386007/okay-but-if-you-think-that-lydia-martin-just-sat). Come by and [say hi on tumblr](http://frecklesshake.tumblr.com/)!

The second thing Lydia does after Allison’s death is scream.

Peter told her: _you have power_ and she does. She’s _something_ and she has power, now, she has fury. 

For the first time in her life it is Peter Hale who flinches and backs away, not Lydia Martin. She understands now and knows what it means to be a banshee, what it means to wield death. She straightens her dress and looks at Scott when he tries to tell her that it’s over, Allison’s dead and nothing can bring her back. He says he is there for her if she wants to talk, but Lydia doesn’t want to _talk_. She wants to scream.

“Thank you, Scott,” she says, smacking her lips with bright pink lip gloss and looking at Stiles’ interrogative expression. If he tries to stop her, he’ll regret it.

Stiles doesn’t stop her. Instead, he brings her more books, already marked for important fragments and with notes. He tells her everything he got from Deaton and shows her spells he’s found on his own. Lydia doesn’t need his spells, but accepts his help. They don’t go to sleep for three days straight and by the time the sun rises for the fourth time, she is ready to murder anybody who’s denying her answers. 

“I don’t think Scott understands,” Stiles starts on the fourth day and Lydia looks at him almost lazily from above her book. 

“He doesn’t,” she says. “But then again, neither do you, and yet here you are,” she tells him and shrugs. Her fury has subsided now, calmer, waiting. She knows she’s close, can feel it in the way her heart beats faster when she looks down at the dagger in her hand. She stole it from Allison’s room and Chris didn’t stop her. He couldn’t if he tried, but she appreciates that he didn’t. Stiles nods. They don’t talk about it. 

Her mother doesn’t understand. She doesn’t try to explain.

She needs a book that she doesn’t have access to. She needs the text of the ritual and it’s only the first of their problems, because she also needs blood and nobody but her knows it yet. 

“I need you to help me to break into somewhere and steal a book I need,” any other time, she would laugh. Any other time, she would’ve flirted her way in, but she doesn’t have time to play games. She has until the next full moon and she doesn’t want to wait. Peter looks at her like she went crazy, but she knows he’s sold on the idea when she promises to owe him one. She doesn’t care about the price.

They don’t get caught. Lydia gets her book. This time, someone finds out that she will need blood. 

Her phone keeps ringing until the battery dies and she doesn’t bother with it anymore. 

Stiles, Scott and Isaac appear in her room and demand explanations. 

“Lydia, you can’t kill—” Scott starts and Lydia looks at him, amused.

“Excuse me?” she asks, her lips turning into a tight line and she hears the furious whispers in the back of her mind again.

“You need her blood,” Scott says, like it’s a bridge she can’t cross. “You won’t kill her father, Lydia, I won’t let you,” Scott continues and before he can end the sentence, Lydia starts to laugh. She laughs, openly, terrifyingly and alien to her own ears. Scott doesn’t flinch. 

“Chris is safe,” Lydia says, beaming. She draws a cross on her heart and says “cross my heart.” She pauses, cocks her head to the side and smiles even brighter. “Hope to die.”

“Gerard,” Stiles almost snarls and Lydia turns to him. She looks at him, really looks at him and knows he won’t stop her. They’re so far gone, the both of them. Next to him, Scott scowls.

“I can’t let you kill anyone,” he starts and Lydia turns back to him again. “You can’t do this,” Scott says, Isaac nodding on the side guiltily. “Allison wouldn’t want it—” he says and she slaps him across the face with as much strength as she can. This time, Scott takes a step back.

“You don’t get to say that,” she tells him, sweetness mixed with barely hidden anger.

“I won’t let you,” Scott says and takes Isaac by the hand. They leave. Stiles stays. 

“Do you want to tell me something else Allison would or wouldn’t want?” she asks, sitting back down between her notes.

“They will try to stop you,” Stiles says and she looks up, surprised with the sudden tenderness in his voice. “I will try to talk to Derek, but— I don’t know, Lydia.”

“You don’t need to. I can do this myself,” she tells him, because she can. She doesn’t need anything from him.

“You will need protection, if they try to stop you. And they will try,” Stiles says and he’s right. Lydia doesn’t look at him.

“So?” she asks, and if there’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice for the first time since Allison died, she ignores it.

“I can protect you,” Stiles says and Lydia wants to laugh again, but his tone is dead serious and Lydia knows it’s not his high school crush speaking. It’s the guilt and the anger and the sadness and she nods, once, because it’s not a favour. 

“I will kill to get her back,” she says and Stiles closes his eyes, breathes in sharply and nods. 

“And I will help you,” he says and Lydia eyes him curiously.

“If you try to stop me, I will kill you too, Stiles,” she says. “I will kill every one of you who tries to stop me,” she whispers.

“I will help you. Cross my heart,” he says, mirroring her. “Hope to die.”

The hunter and the banshee becomes the emissary and the banshee. For a short while, at least. 

Stiles draws a circle under Allison’s grave and spills his blood to keep it closed. Nothing she couldn’t do by herself, but she’d rather leave her strength for the ritual. She speaks only in latin for four days. She repeats the formula while she brushes her teeth, brushes her hair, while she rips the still-beating heart right out of Gerard’s chest and runs from the wolves. 

She doesn’t regret it when they appear around Stiles’ circle and growl when she starts digging up Allison’s grave. Stiles paces in circles, holding onto a bloodied talisman and chanting in a language she knows is Old Norse.

Lydia hears Scott and Derek’s plea for Stiles to break the circle. To let them in. Stiles just looks at them, shakes his head and never stops chanting. She can feel his blood protecting her, can hear the voices whispering about them, about what they doing, how many laws they are breaking. 

“Stiles, you need to leave,” she says, calm, smelling the earth and rain and blood and decay. She feels warm. She wants to throw up. 

She has dirt all over her pink dress.

“The protection,” Stiles starts, looking at her, surprised.

“It will hold up,” she says, looking at the werewolves around them, shouting and growling. “It will be fine unless they kill you or you break it.”

Stiles is silent. He doesn’t look at her face; looks at her hands, dress, the hole in the ground instead. At his hands.

“Will you break it?” she asks, because she has to be certain or ready herself. She has a spell or two she can use. Or a hundred. She won’t be a victim. Allison won’t be a victim. If she could bring Peter back, she will bring Allison back.

“No,” he says and nods, taking a step back, leaving the runic circle around her. “Bring her back,” is the last thing she can hear from him.

The whispers get louder, the stench of death takes her breath away. She doesn’t know how long her ritual lasts. She thinks she can hear Chris Argent screaming from behind the barrier.

Stiles protects her.

Lydia screams. She screams until she faints, until the stench of death clogs her mouth, her nose, even her mind.

She screams.

She wakes the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you see any mistakes I should correct!


End file.
